In the Stillness

CHAPTER 16



“I wonder if I should try to get ahold of Ryker,” I say to Tosha on the phone as I get the boys ready for the screening.

“Are you trying to make me drive off the road?”

“No . . . I mean . . . after, what? Nine and change years after I break up with him and he’s all in my head again? It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something . . . or something.” I pat the boys on the head and finish the call in the bedroom.

Tosha lets out a long groan. “I don’t know, Natalie. Maybe it’s just whatever drove you to Lucas’s grave the other day. It’s been ten years since he died . . . that’s a milestone. I think it all just trudged that ugly shit up in your brain.”

“It wasn’t all ugly, Tosh . . .”

“No, it wasn’t. But when it was, it was really bad. I lost you for like eight months, Natalie—more than that if you want to get technical. It only had to hurt once, Nat. Don’t make it hurt again. Just let it go.”

* * *

Ryker didn’t sleep the night we got home from the party. I know, because I didn’t either. I was drunk on anxiety from the turn Ryker’s personality had taken over the last twenty-four hours. I wasn’t so foolish as to think he wouldn’t struggle when he got home; I just didn’t know what to do about it.

By the time dawn stretched over the horizon, I heard Ryker’s breathing even out. He’d reached over and held my hand before he fell asleep. I left our fingers entwined as I listened to his peaceful breathing.

“No . . .” Ryker’s voice started far away, but got louder as sweat sprang across his forehead. He started squeezing my hand again, and it hurt worse than when he was awake. His grip only got tighter as I tried to pull it away. He screamed louder than I ever thought someone could scream in their sleep, “Shit, Luke! No!”

He was dreaming about Lucas. I needed to pull him out of it, I thought.

“Ryker. Ryker! Wake up!” In a flash he was on his feet and I was pulled into a sitting position, because he still had my hand.

His ragged breathing filled my tiny dorm room as I watched darkness from sweat take over his grey t-shirt. Though he was looking at me, it took a second before the trance broke, and his eyes started darting around the room. He didn’t let go of my arm for a few seconds, and I didn’t ask him to. It was like watching an animal you accidentally stumbled upon in the woods—don’t make any sudden moves.

“Ry . . .” I whispered, looking at our hands, suspended in air.

He let out a frustrated sigh and, still holding my hand, sat on the bed next to me. I still didn’t try to pull it away. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

Finally pulling back, he took his and rubbed it over his face a few times before looking around my room.

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

He was looking straight ahead, hands folded, elbows on his knees. “Did I say anything . . . when I was sleeping?”

I could have lied, I suppose, but I didn’t. “You just said Lucas’s name a few times . . .well, Luke . . .”

“How’s your hand?” He still wasn’t looking at me, and his tone was dead.

“It’s fine, Ry.”

“I gotta go,” he said, standing abruptly.

I stood and followed behind him. “It’s like five thirty in the morning, why don’t you stay and get some sleep.”

“I can’t. I just . . . I’ll call you later.” He gave me a tight kiss and left me standing in the middle of my room, confused and scared, as he left without another word.

Finally, I cried. The night before had been scary as hell with him in that guy’s face at the party, and then the nightmare. This was turning into a living nightmare, and I knew deep down this was just the beginning. I felt weak again. This was going to be a long road with Ryker, and I was falling apart a few days in.

I walked into the bathroom with intentions that pervaded me since the night after Lucas’s funeral, and began cutting. I suppose, looking back, my face had the same trance-look on it as Ryker’s did when he woke up from his nightmare, only I was intentionally walking into mine. I stared at my arm as I casually pressed the broken blade down and dragged it slowly from my wrist to my elbow. Blinking was my only response as blood spilled from my skin immediately. Usually it took at least a second pass for me to draw blood.

Not this time. It didn’t even hurt anymore. I guess it only had to hurt once for me to know how good it felt after—when it was all over.

When I was done, disinfected, and bandaged up, I called Ryker’s cell. He’d had it reactivated when he got home, but didn’t answer. Confident that I was ready to face whatever was plaguing him head-on, I didn’t bother calling his dad’s house before getting in my car and driving there. After pulling on an unseasonable long-sleeved t-shirt, of course.

Bill’s car wasn’t in the driveway, making me only slightly nervous. I thought with his dad around, I at least had a safety net. Instead, it would just be Ryker and me. I knocked on the door a few times, but no one answered. And it was locked. I chewed on my lip for a minute, weighing my options, when sitting on the steps and waiting became the only one. I sat down, rested my head on the railing, and promptly dozed off due to the lack of sleep the night before.

Who knows how long later, Bill gently shook my shoulder. I had to shield my eyes from the glaring sun.

“Natalie,” he whispered in laughter, “you know where the key is. What are you doing out here?”

I rubbed my eyes as he helped me to my feet. “Sorry, Ryker left in an awful hurry this morning . . .” I stopped myself when I realized I was speaking out loud. “Where is he?”

Bill shrugged, “Must be out for a run, I guess. His sneakers are gone and I had the car. Come in.” He held the door and we walked into the kitchen. I sat, awkwardly, on the stool in the kitchen, checking over my shoulder to the front door, waiting for Ryker—feeling like maybe I shouldn’t be in his house without him knowing.

“I’m surprised he’s out running,” I started, nervously, “He didn’t sleep last night really . . . nightmares . . .” I didn’t know if I should be mentioning this to Bill, but I had no one else to tell. Ryker didn’t even want to talk about it.

Bill slid me a cup of coffee I hadn’t asked for, but was grateful to accept. “I imagine he did.” He shrugged and poured himself a cup.

“He didn’t want to talk about it. He woke up from it, asked if I was okay, and left.” My tired eyes filled with tears.

Bill planted his elbows on the counter across from me, and his eyes—an identical blue to Ryker’s—met me dead on. “Are you okay?”

“I am. I was shaken up a little because he jumped out of bed, like, while he was still asleep. He was holding onto my hand so he yanked me up a little, but I’m physically okay. I guess by the look on his face, he was more scared than I was . . .” I closed my eyes briefly and wondered how Bill knew I drank my coffee black.

He nodded and took a long sip before sighing. That was his only response. I don’t know if he didn’t know what to say, or if he knew I wouldn’t like what he was going to say, but we sat in caffeinated silence for a while. Several minutes later, Bill’s eyes shot to the front door as it opened, producing a shirtless and sweaty Ryker, home from his run. I felt queasy as he headed toward me, wondering if I should have come at all.

“Hey.” Ryker was still breathing heavy as he leaned in and gave me a sweaty kiss before getting a glass of water.

“Hey.” I grinned behind my coffee mug. Bill caught me, and smiled back. My smile faded, though, when Ryker turned around; that dead look was still in his eyes.

He walked right past me. Stopping abruptly when he got to the entryway, he turned on his heels to face me. “I’ll be down in a few, gotta shower.”

I nodded and smiled as he ran up the stairs. Turning my attention back to my coffee, I traced my thumb along the rim of the mug.

Bill walked around the bar and rubbed my back. “Hang in there, Kid. Stick with him.”

“I will.”

* * *

“Okay, Mrs. . . .” The teacher scans her eyes between my boys’ last names and mine.

“Collins,” I save her. “Their father and I are married and cohabitating, I just kept my maiden name.” I don’t know what’s more shocking to her; that I kept my last name, or that we’re actually two married people raising children. “But,” I continue, “Natalie’s fine.”

She smiles the perfect circle-time smile. “The boys did great, they’re right where we like kids to start for the beginning of the year. Max even seems a little ahead in letter and word recognition.”

“And Oliver?” I smile at my boys’ natural intellect.

Something Eric and I got right.

“Oliver did well, also. I’m curious, though, has he ever had his hearing tested?”

Dizziness flashes through me for a second, the way it does before you know something inevitably negative will come next. “No, why?” I clear my throat.

“Well, when the room was quiet, there were times he had a delayed or no response to my voice. When his back was turned, there was one time I had to walk around him and get his attention. It looked like I startled him.”

My eyebrows knit together as I replay the same scenarios I’ve had with Ollie over the last several weeks. “I’ve noticed that too, actually. I honestly thought it was an attention thing . . .”

“It could be, or an auditory processing issue. Sometimes, when there’s lots of background noise, it’s difficult for some children to decipher what they need to be tuned in to. If you take him to an Audiologist, they’ll perform lots of diagnostic tests using different frequencies, volumes . . .” the teacher lists off the possibilities in what I think is a very reassuring tone, but I’m scanning every potential risk factor in their short lives. I carried them to full term, they never had oxygen therapy, and have never had a fever over whatever threshold the AAP says is dangerous, but I swallow hard while studying the look in her eyes.

Something’s wrong with one of my sons. And I’m scared.